


From the notebook of an adventurer

by Athras (M_Sparklez)



Category: Dragon Age (Tabletop RPG), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Sparklez/pseuds/Athras
Summary: It is a collection of texts about Athras, a dalish first who started travelling after finally being able to convince his keeper to let him go.He is my character in a dragon age pnp campaign, started shortly before the timeline of origins.





	1. Swirls

He hated villages and he hated towns even more. It was shortly before a special day the humans celebrate and the streets were full of people. He tried to not get attention to him but even though he tried his best the whispers followed him as he pushed himself through the crowds.

“Is that an elf?”

“What is an elf doing here?”

“He’s one of those that have that crap on their faces.”

“A Dalish?”

It was the same almost everywhere he went. Only the hostility towards him showed in different levels. But he always could hear the disproving tone in most whispers almost like a: “Who do you think you are? Showing up here and acting like you’re one of us.” He didn’t even have to come up with those words because they were the exact same ones he heard in another town recently. When he tried to buy some food. An idiotic idea how he later realized. The food was overprized: “It’s not expensive, that’s what you have to pay, elf”, and wasn’t tasting great. If he hadn’t slipped and hurt his ankle he would have gathered his meal in the forest but it hadn't been possible at that time. And even though he tried to heal it, it still hurt till today if he didn’t watch how he stepped on the ground the wrong way.

“You should hold your head up. Be proud of who you are”, was what his keeper told him. But holding up his head in a crowd full of hatred towards him was something he definitely didn’t want to try.

“Some of them call us savages. They don’t know so many things and use primitive ways to cover for their ignorance. Humans are the real savages”, he heard one clan member complain once. The more he saw from the humans the more he tend to believe her words. How could someone stop thinking bad about the people if they drown you in hatred?

At least he was out of the crowd, the whispers not understandable anymore and most people minding their own business again. He crouched down, grabbed his hood to pull it so it covered even more of his face. Maybe they think he was one of the beggars and left him alone. All he needed was some rest. And the bandits on the street made the streets too dangerous for that.

It took a while before he noticed the little feet that stopped in front of him. He actually didn’t notice that little girl until it crouched down to look under his hood into his face and his first reaction was to back away. If it wasn’t for the fence he was leaning against he would’ve succeeded. 

“Beautiful”, the little girl said and Athras finally looked at her. 

“What do you mean?” He was away from the main crowd but people would still chase him away if he was talking with the girl for too long. He had to get rid of her somehow.

“The swirls on your face. They are beautiful”, she told him, sitting down in the dirt before him. “I wanted momma to paint swirls on my arm for the celebration but she’s too busy.” While she was talking she fished a little box with paint out of the bag she had with her.

“Can you draw beautiful swirls on my arm? Because I like the ones you drew on your face”, she asked, suddenly a bit shy, while she was fumbling with her box. Athras wanted to send her away but it was the first time in this town that someone was nice so he held out his hand and the girl gave him the paint. While he drew on her arm he made sure that nobody saw his face. It sure looked suspicious to have a hooded figure sitting there, painting a little girls arm, but it was better than people seeing an elf doing it. It didn’t take long and she had an arm with red swirls all over it.

“Little girl, I want to tell you something”, Athras began when he was finished, “I don’t paint them on my face.” Before he could react the girl leaned forward and touched his face. She tried to rub the Vallaslin but realized that it won’t come off.

“That makes it even more beautiful”, she whispered, amazed because she hadn’t seen something like that before, then she stood up and ran back into the crowd.


	2. Losing control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it happens that Athras gets caught be slave traders...

The blood dripped down on the floor. It left a trail on his face, from his forehead down to his chin as he glared at the men who had bound him up, beaten him. If the others would have seen him now they probably wouldn’t have recognized him, his eyes filled with hatred and bloodlust, his expression showing nothing but rage. He didn’t speak, didn’t answer the questions they asked him. He just growled at them, spitting even more blood. And they didn’t care anymore. He would lose his will to fight soon enough and they had others to take care of.

Others who didn’t fight like a dog that had nothing else to protect than his own life. Others who accepted their fate as soon as they were confronted with it.

Without much fuss the leader knocked him out. There hadn't been much he could've done to avoid it. They were just glad that they did not only bound his arms behind his back but his feet too. They had seen his behaviour before countless times. In animals, wild beasts, caught to be tamed, still yearning for their freedom that's lost forever now.

And while the blackness of unconsciousness held him they took care of the rest of the bunch they caught together with him. Other than him the rest was wearing worn down rags, telling everyone they didn’t have much to begin with and unless there was a streetrat under them they never put up much of a fight. Being accustomed to bow to rules made them docile at least. It didn't take long to take care of them, putting them into the cages, divided by gender.

Now the group moved on to the stuff their prisoners had with them, looking through it. Nobody in the cages would need something of value now. They would get enough when they were sold to households and should just leave their old life behind.

That was the time when he woke up again too. His mind was clearer now, although the will to die fighting was still rooted deep inside him. But he was able to notice what was happening around him, that the group that caught him had to be slavers, according to the stuff they said before and that his staff was lying so damn close to him but yet so far away. It didn't take long for the men to get to it and he winced when one of them take a closer look.

"A staff?" the man asked, the others turning to their companion now.

"It looks nice. Could get us some money if we sell it," another one commented, raising his hand to touch the antlers. "From what animal are those?"

"I don't know but I would rather know who's the owner." And with that a discussion started. He wasn’t really able to follow it, too many people talking, interrupting each other, shouting. At least until they all went silent again, one of them pointing at him.

“He is the one I took it from.” A few words, simple but yet powerful enough to stir them up. Except for their leader. He looked at their captive as he stepped forward, closer to him.

“There’s no way a mage would live undetected in an alienage like this one, not for all these years,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the face of the bound one. “Unless you aren’t from here.”  
That man was intelligent. More intelligent than he had thought someone from a group of slaver traders would be. That guy didn’t only grab his face, he was wiping the blood off and with it the make-up covering his vallaslin.

“Seems like we got a rare catch here. No wonder you were fighting like a wildcat against that rope. You actually know what freedom feels like.” The words resulted in laughter but it was cut short as the leader grabbed his hair. “Don’t you dare think you would get out of here. I bet there are some people paying a nice sum for someone like you,” the man hissed, yanking his head down before letting go again. Then he turned to his men and told them, “We’ll sell that staff in Tevinter. It will get us more money there. The lute is probably the only other thing in that pile of shit that’s worth anything.”

Somehow that was when he snapped. They could hit him all they wanted but they wouldn’t separate him from his staff. From the only thing he had brought with him, the only thing that held a connection to his family. Most of the people were too occupied to see what was happing, cold fog gathering around him. The captive elves noticed first, surprised shouts as they gathered at the farthest side, away from him. When the slavers finally took notice of the tumult it was too late already. He was enveloped by the fog and released it suddenly to cover the whole room. It worked like an explosion but instead of covering everything in fire it was ice. And that ice hit every one of the slavers, freezing them in place while it swept over the captives like a wave without hurting them. They cowered in a corner, watching, but not moving a single finger. The fear had them in its hands.

His skin was crackling as he started to move, like ice when someone poured hot water on it. But that didn’t stop him from going over to the men, one thought dominating everything else.  
“You won’t get my staff.” And he would do anything for it to be like that. Getting out of that room wasn’t even on his mind now but before he could reach his staff one of the frozen moved, slightly at first yet enough to draw his attention. It was the leader who was slowly unfreezing again.

“I didn’t think you would be that much trouble even though being a mage,” the slaver told him after he could finally move again. He turned to the talking man, realising he had to be a mage too or at least got some protection. But that shouldn’t help him now as he came closer, faster than he could’ve moved in his normal state.

“What are you…,” the leader started but he was disrupted by the hand on his chest and him speaking up.

“Die.” One word, calmly spoken. It surprised him that there was no scream as the ice pierced through the leaders heart, his own hand slowly turning red as the skin broke open beneath it. As he removed his hand the body didn’t fall, being frozen in place again.

“Athras.” A faint voice called him as soon as he processed that the man was dead.

“Athras.” Louder this time but it couldn’t shut down the need to finally hold his most precious possession in his hands again.

“Athras, stop it!” There was fear in the voice. He could almost feel how scared the one calling him must be. It was so easy now to use magic, to get what he wanted.

“You have to focus! Don’t let your magic flow like that. Close the door!” The door. That’s how his keeper referred to their connection to the fade, to their magic. The door   
had to be opened slowly and controlled. He turned around, expecting the keeper to stand there but he was hit by a memory instead.  
There had been a hand over his eyes, the air around him so cold he had been shivering. And even though it was a late spring day he had seen the snow before his sight had been restricted.

“You’re still not calm. Count to ten, slowly. And make sure you have control over yourself again.” That was what his keeper had told him before hugging him firmly. “I’m glad I got you out before anything happened.” He couldn’t open his eyes as he started counting, the lids too heavy and he himself too exhausted. The only thing he heard before he fell asleep was his keeper telling someone that it had been him, not Athras, who had been responsible for this chaos.

His mind snapped back into reality as an arrow hit him hard, skin forming cracks from his back where it hit him. Without hesitating he grabbed it, pulling it out. It hurt a bit, especially as the head caused his flesh to break away. It wouldn’t have taken long for him to snap out of whatever it was what had him in its hands now but the attack pushed him back again. He tossed the arrow aside when he turned to the one who shot it. There was no need to step closer like he did with the leader. The fluids in a body would freeze from afar too. And this time he got to hear an agonizing scream. A little smile showed on his face as he watched that man bending forward, clenching his stomach. But that was all he got to do before he lost the ground beneath his feet. There was no strength left in him to stop the fall and as he hit his head on the floor the last part of the memory came back.

“If you let the magic flow without any control it uses up all of you. You could’ve died.” The keeper had been scared. Scared to lose him.

The pain rung through his head as he moved it, to look at his staff that laid a few metres away.

“I could’ve died,” he murmured before he lost his consciousness for the second time today.

**Author's Note:**

> Athras has problems with humans almost everywhere. No wonder he is wary when he finally gets to meet the others from his party for the first time...


End file.
